Dreams of Reality
by KeitaWolf
Summary: Rory has a dream about Tristan. For the first time in her life she likes him. Things progress, and suddenly she is running, from the world, as everyone she ever knew is betraying her. ONE SHOT! [COMPLETE]


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gilmore Girls, or Tamora Pierce's stories (of which I quote in here). This story line however is a very realistic recount of a dream I had, and the plot line I do take credit for… Therefore as always, the crap is mine and any decent stuff is someone else's….

**A/N:** This fic is upsetting. In reality it was a dream I had. I will not say whom it featured as Tristan (for it is a Tristan fic); no will I tell you which pieces were tweaked for the story and which pieces were 100 my dream. Normally I do not dream these types of things. But this, well I couldn't get out of my head. So, I did what I've done all my life; written down what was bothering me. So this is my dream; only Gilmore Girl style. Characters have been changed to fit the personality of the one featured within my dream. This is what during my time in Germany haunted my reality.

**Rating: **PG13 - R for implied content and mild language.

**Summary:** Rory has a dream about Tristan. For the first time in her life she likes him. Things progress, and suddenly she is running, from the world, as everyone she ever knew is betraying her.

**WARNING** – This is not a fic to read if you are looking for TRORY fluff. It is dark, and graphic. Do not take lightly, and do not read if you are love sick over Chad/Tristan. I will not be responsible for any depression poems that are sprung from this story.  Enjoy.

* * *

Rory had given in. She didn't know how or why it had happened, she usually hated Tristan, but for some reason she found herself at his house. The TV was on, though she didn't acknowledge what was playing. Tristan's little brother; I didn't know he had one, Rory thought to herself before letting her mind accept the situation. Tristan's little brother was sitting on a chair in front of the couch watching the TV flash it's mesmerizing images.

Rory herself was seated on the couch. She didn't remember coming to Tristan's, nor even how she got to be inside his house, sitting on the couch watching TV with his little brother. It was as if she had always been there, Tristan was seated beside her. Had he always been there? His blond hair was tousled and messy, in the trademark way that just screamed 'Tristan'. His eyes were slightly red. She knew, though she didn't know how, that he had been smoking his water pipe. The aroma of strawberries assured her assumptions, though changed nothing. Only that the scent mixed with his cologne made her head feel dizzy.

Tristan leaned over the distance between them and said something. She didn't tune in. She was still taking in the situation, and her surroundings. There was a door to her left. Rory realized by the smells radiating from it that it lead to the kitchen. To the left of the television there was another door, which lead to the rest of the house. The walls were white, and the light came only from the windows, giving the walls a blue hue.

This was where Tristan lived. She knew his parents to be present; somewhere. A sister somewhere also… in her room. Rory didn't take notice though because soon Tristan had slumped over the distance between them and was looking up at her laughing at a joke he had just made. His ice blue eyes seemed to stare into her mind. She could feel them, searching, pleading, questioning her. They were beautiful – mesmerizing. Rory watch as he blinked, his long lashes; flickering. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. He smiled, his two eye teeth breaking the grin. They were long, surprisingly long. Not a terrifying horror movie long, but a seductive long. They fit his smile with perfection. Rory felt herself wondering what it would be like to have those fang like teeth gently grazing her skin, nibbling on her lip.

He whispered something in her ear. She hear it, but didn't register as she shot back a flirtatious line in response. Laughing she let her hair fall out from behind her ear.

She wanted to be held. She wanted to taste his lips. She wanted to know. It didn't matter that his was Tristan; she was Mary. He wouldn't hurt his Mary. She felt safe with him. She trusted him. She trusted him, and his smile. But more importantly, she trusted those eyes. Ice blue, pools of emotion, boring into her mind. She wanted to be held, she wanted Tristan to like her, she wanted him to fall for her. She wanted him.

As if her thoughts controlled reality, Tristan pulled his body, already slouched onto her, closer. His face was perilously close now. She turned her head to the side, pretending to watch TV. She felt his nose caressing her ear, moving her hair gently away from her face. His nose gently brushed her neck, nuzzling her; His hot breath compensating against her skin.

Don't taunt me like this! Rory thought. Then she felt his lips, gentle, warm, brushing, caressing her neck. They were butterfly kisses, placed along the exposed muscle on her neck. They started low, near her collar bone, and slowly crept up until they were just beneath her ear, fluttering just beneath her cheek bone.

Kiss me she thought, turning to look into his eyes. And he did. Your first kiss, he mind told her, kiss back. But Tristan's mouth was moving in such a way that she couldn't kiss back without making the kiss sloppy. Coming up for air, she took charge. She gently nibbled on his top lip, as she had read in a number of books. He moaned, and tried to kiss back, but she wouldn't let him. But after a few seconds, he had regained control and was returning the treatment; gently nibbling on her lower lip, and letting his hands tangle themselves in her hair as she shuddered under his touch.

Rory fell then, laughing to the floor. She felt drunk with emotion. The world was moving as if floating, this was dream like, but Rory's core told her it was reality. She wanted this to be reality. This could be her reality.

Tristan laughing himself, scooted to the edge of the couch. Leaning over he lifted her back up, draping her legs over his. Rory flirted again. Laughing, shooting a little sarcastic remark. She felt like she knew him, his arms held her closely around the waist, and she could feel him shudder with desire when she gently touched him in her flirtation. He wanted her. No one had ever wanted her this way.

This was Tristan, the one beneath all the tough guy cracks. Beneath the cocky grins, the rumors the lies, this was the real Tristan and Rory loved it.

He was sitting on her then. Her back pressed into the couch. His hands went to his belt as he moved to straddle her. He held her pelvis down between his thighs. She couldn't move. Confusion hit her, then panic. She didn't know what was happening – No, this isn't right.

He leaned to the side. She stopped struggling slightly; she couldn't see what he was doing. Rising again she began her struggle once more, realizing that he wasn't going to release her. What was happening?

"Take this." He said offering her a pill.

Date Rape –

"No, Tristan, please. Not this, no," she said as he tried to put the pill into her mouth. "No, it's Date Rape, Tristan stop. Get off me."

"It's for the pain," he said, his melodic voice cooing her nerves momentarily. "You've been skiing, you need it, it will make you feel better." The thought that she didn't ski never crossed her mind. If Tristan said it, it was true. She must be in pain, but something still didn't feel right. Something had changed. Something was different, the previously perfect moment, was now one of forceful aggression.

"No, Tristan. No, I don't want it."

"It's harmless, see." He said, cutting the pill in half with his pocket knife. He put half into his mouth, and let the remainder crumble onto Rory's lips. Unwillingly, Rory licked her lips out of habit. Tristan leaned down and kissed her, again, this time he snapped the buttons on her pants as he did so.

"Tristan, No!" She shouted, as he head started to spin. She had said it. She said no. Don't all parents say that no means no. She had said it, why wasn't he stopping. No. no, no! her brain shouted. Could he hear her? Wasn't he listening to her screams?

She shouted his brother's name.

He looked to her his eyes holding sadness. In the moment when her eyes met his, she saw the helplessness that was held in their depths. He looked from her then, to Tristan, and back. Silently he walked out of the room, gently shutting the door behind him.

Tristan was kissing her neck again; roughly. He was moving down, rather than up. Rory couldn't scream, she didn't know what was happening. She wasn't in control. She was always in control, the lack of it terrified her more than the concept of what she knew was to come. He'd betrayed her. The felt tears, streaming down her eyes. He looked up momentarily his ice blue eyes looking into her soul. His stare, those controlling empty eyes, she would remember forever. Then she slowly dropped out of consciousness.

* * *

She felt beaten; broken. Her neck was sore all over, she could feel bruises on her breast stomach and inner thigh. Trying to lift herself up, her tired arms shook under the weight of her body.

There was a noise in the kitchen; Tristan. She didn't remember anything that had happened, but her mind screamed – Rape – and she trusted her intuition even if it was for just that one moment.

Run, he mind ordered. Run for you life and don't let him catch you. Feeling the strength in her body, she threw herself at the door, she was flying. But where to run? She was moving down the stairs, legs stretched out in long strides made longer as she heard him follow. Terror gripped her insides. He could run faster, and she knew it. She needed help.

Parents? Sister? No. Rory knew that while they lived together under the name of 'family' that it was Tristan who ran the house. It was Tristan's orders which were followed. She couldn't stop for failure. She had to keep running.

She was terrified she would trip. As he legs moved as fast as they could, she felt her body begin to move faster. If she wasn't careful she would trip over her own feet and then he would have her for sure. She had to keep running. She ripped open the door.

The street was dark, and cobble stoned. There was a curb, sewer and rats. She didn't look back to the beautiful house of which she had just rushed from. Instead she pounded into the center of the street, causing traffic to swerve and dodge her.

"Help me! Aid moi! Helfen Sie mir bitte! Someone! Anyone! Please!" Where was she? Run, he mind screeched, he's coming.

No one moved to help her. She ripped down the street, hoping to lose him in a crowed. She had one thought – Get away.

She ran into the closet store. When she was young she sometimes wondered where the best hiding place might be. If she was running away she always believed that hiding near by would throw her pursuer off. She would be expected to go as far as possible. Entering a small store, she started to rush up and down aisles trying to find a safe spot.

She straight into a man,

"Please," she gasped. "Help me. I've been raped, and" he gasped again. "He's after me."

"Which one?" The man asked holding her steady as she frantically surveyed the store.

"That's him!" She screeched into his ear trying to pull back. As the man moved to go she quickly stopped him. "No," she said. "No, never mind, it wasn't."

Rory looked around the store. Clutching desperately to the mans arms as he supported her. Terror gripped her stomach. "Th-there," she stammered pointing to Tristan as he walked into the store.

"Wait here." the man ordered, walking towards Tristan, who didn't seem frantic at all. He was looking around sometimes raising to his toes to look over shelves, but never running. He was calm and composed.

Rory watched the man walk over to Tristan. Safe, she thought. What was he saying? She wondered. He pointed to her. What? No – this can't be happening. Rory watched Tristan's head turn, he grinned as he met her eyes. Ice. Those eyes! Rory felt herself grow cold. Betrayal. Run –

She was running again, this time into an apartment building. Phone; find a phone and call for help. She didn't know how she had gotten away from Tristan. All she knew was that she was running, and that he was following. Reaching the third floor she turned right and ran down the hall. There – a door, t was open a crack.

Breaking into the room, she was confronted with a lean faced boy, with brown shaggy hair. He was sitting at a circular table typing on a computer. He looked up when she came in, but didn't seem surprise that a strange woman had come tear soaked bursting through his door.

"Please," Rory said. "Can I use your phone? I – I've been raped. I need help."

"Dad!" The boy called. "I'm Chris he said holding out his hand. I live here." He added needlessly. Rory flinched at his touch. She felt used, and his touch sent feelings of violence and fear pulsating through her veins.

"Chris?" A large man with a moustache said coming into the room. "What's wrong?"

"She needs the phone. She was raped." The boy said bluntly.

"By who?" The man asked, as if this were a regular day occurrence.

"Tristan – DuGray." Rory said, as if it were perfectly normal to be having a discussion about her rapist.

"Oh, well," The man paused. "Our phone needs a password and only my wife knows it." He said. "You can wait…"

"No, I have to go, thank you." She said running for the stairs. She never questioned the reason for the password on the phone, nor did she care how familiar everything was.

She ran head on, into a woman. Her face was quite square, her hair a reddish brown, cut to mid neck, and frizzy. She was young, only in her late twenties, Rory suspected.

"Please," Rory said, her mind telling her who it was. "Please, can I use your phone?"

"of course," The woman said smiling

Then Rory hearing foot steps cried, "He's coming!"

"Hurry. Hide, in the closet!" The woman said not asking who 'he' was.

Moving into the closet Rory gave the woman a genuine thanks. She heard Tristan enter, and felt doubt, that he would find her. She didn't know how, but he would. Panic hit her. There were old holey clothes all around her, and a single door. She was trapped. Looking up in a desperate hope, she noticed there was a trap door.

Opening it, Rory hoisted herself up. Closing it behind her she scurried into a corner of the attic space and listened to the conversation below her.

"Hello"

"Are you Tristan?" The man asked.

"Yes."

"She's in the closet," the woman said.

Betrayal.

Rory didn't know what happened, the panic didn't even have a chance to take over. Before she knew it the woman was in the attic with Rory.

"W-why did you tell him where I was?" Rory asked, not feeling worry, but instead pain at the betrayal she was constantly being subjected to.

"Because," the woman replied as if it were an answer. "My son said you were raped."

"Yes," Rory answered, "this past afternoon."

"Well we have to clean your fingernails! They could convict him!" The woman said reaching for Rory's hand.

Before Rory's eyes, the woman grew old. Soft, white skin, sagged and grew blemishes. Her hair, where before was fiery and youthful, turned gray and thing. Her hands were knobby, and as Rory watched her try to scrap her fingernails she yelled, "Get away from me Grandma! Don't!"

As soon as the words escaped her mouth, the woman was youthful again

"Don't talk to me that way, bitch!" She yelled slapping Rory. "My husband will drive you to your family. Not get out of my house."

Rory was outside. There was a car there and she was waiting at the end of the driveway.

"He's waiting for her," the wind carried the words to her. "Just drop her off, and some home. Chris and I will wait."

Betrayal! Rory's mind shouted. Constant betrayal! Run – her heart said. Run. And she did.

"Richard!" the woman yelled. "Get her!"

Rory was running along a forest path. She saw Stars Hallow. Home, she thought. Mom, her heart screamed. Safe, her mind concluded. She was running. Dirt was flying behind her, pain rippled through her body in vibrant waves. She heard a car behind her. She was running as fast as she could yet things felt like they were moving in slow motion.

She passed Taylor's Grocery store, Dean looked up, smiled and continued putting oranges on display.

She passed Babbet and Mrs. Patty s she caught a piece of their conversation.

"It was a blonde boy," Babbet said.

"The one with the nice eyes?" Mrs. Patty asked.

Running, Keep running.

She passed Luke's. He raised the coffee pot to her in recognition. A tear escaped her eye. Keep running she told herself.

The car was close now.

She reached the center of town.

Max.

Giving the last of her energy to the effort, she collapsed at his feet.

"Max," she said crying, "Please. Help me."

"Rory, What are you doing down there?"

He helped her up.

"I – I," Rory couldn't say it. Everything was spinning. She was oblivious to time. This is what it all lead up to; crying into her mother's fiancé's arms.

"Look Rory," he said helping her walk up the steps to the gazebo. "Your mom is busy with the wedding arrangements, and well I'm off to go help her now." He continued. "But here's Tristan. He'll be able to help you with whatever it is you need."

Looking up, Rory saw Tristan coming over. She cried. Se had nothing left. Collapsing she watched as Max walked off. Tears streaming down her face she just sat; waiting for what she knew would be the inevitable end.

"Mary, why do you always run from me?"

Rory's silent tears continued to fall, as Tristan bent down and kissed her ear. She felt Tristan lift her up.

Black. It was over, she had lost. Darkness.

* * *

Rory woke up. Her pillow was wet with tears. Her dream, or more like nightmare, had left her shaking and in a cold sweat. Turning her alarm clock off, she walked to the shower.

Changing into her Chilton uniform, Rory felt weak. As if she had spent the night running. Her lip was bleeding from where she had bitten it too hard the night before.

Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she walked to the bus.

She passed Luke's, where he smiled at her and lifted his pot in acknowledgement.

She passed Babbet and Mrs. Patty who already were at their gossip.

"I heard she broke down into tears!" Mrs. Patty said.

"I heard he carried her away!" Babbet answered in reply.

"Rory!" Mrs. Patty called. "Hoe's your mother? Did she accept Max's proposal? If she didn't can you tell him I'm available?" She said laughing to Babbet.

"I – I don't know." Rory stuttered.

She passed Doose's Market.

"Rory!" Taylor called out. "Take an apple for the bus." He said smiling. "I'd give you an orange, but Dean just finished the display. But it doesn't really matter, because you know what they say?"

"No, what?" Rory asked staring at the orange display.

"That an apple a day keeps the doctor away."

"Oh, right."

"Now hurry up! Wouldn't want to miss the bus!"

Rory continued her walk, staring at the apple in her hand, and glancing over her shoulder at the orange display. She was still shook up after her dream, and as the town started to wake up she wondered how much of it was truly a dream. It seemed that her mind had been dreaming parts of reality during its terror.

Rory stepped onto the bus. She was still shaking every so slightly.

Who dreams of Rape? She asked herself.

Rory spent the whole bus ride staring out the window, letting her mind drift as countless trees and cars went by.

Entering Chilton, Rory opened her locker. She pulled out some books, and then a novel, and headed off the class early.

Sitting in the empty classroom, Rory opened the book In the Realms of the Gods by Tamora Pierce. Her mother had given her the first one of the series as a joke. Wild Magic it was called. She said, it might hold the secret to Luke's coffee. As it turns out, the book was a little juvenile, but the plot was addicting. The simplicity of it, made the book however childish, luring to a mind with too much on it.

She began to read.

_ There's a thing to boggle the mind, she thought, rubbing her shoulders to warm them. Stormwings with honor!  
__Rikash had been flying in the van, watching the sky. Now he fell back, gliding into a position near Daine. A female Stormwing behind them called, "Mortal lover!"  
__The green-eyes male looked at her. "Repeat that on the dueling grounds at the next full moon, Zusha." The female shut up, and Rikash turned his attention to Daine. "A feather for your thoughts?"  
__"Hm?" she asked him, startled/  
__"Mooning over Long Lankin?" he inquired, jerking his head towards Numair.  
__Daine blushed, and glared at him. Long Lankin was the villain in the ballad, a tall bandit who lived for slaughter. "He's no more Lankin than you are songbird," she retorted. "besides, he's not what I'm thinking of" – which wasn't entirely a lie.  
__Rikash laughed. "What _were_ you thinking of, then?"  
__"I heard somewhere that immortals are born in dreams. Or that our dreams give them shape – something like that. Now, I can see fold dreaming winged horses and unicorns. Even dreaming that a winged horse of unicorn would go bad makes sense. Haven't we all thought something's a joy, only to find hat it's evil inside? But- forgive my saying it; no offense intended – how could _anyone_ dream a Stormwing?"  
__His smile was cruel. "Ages ago, a traveler in the moral realms went from place to place and found only the leavings or war – the starving, the abandoned, the dead. It was the work of armies, fighting over ground they soon lost again. That traveler sickened of waste – of death. She wished for a creature that was so repulsive, living on war's aftermath, that even_ humans_ would think twice before battle. That creature would defile what mortal killers left, so that humans couldn't lie about how glorious a soldier's death is. _She_ dreamed the first Stormwing."  
__Daine shivered. "But it doesn't seem to make a difference, most of the time." Leaf, who had trickled down to pool in her lap, nodded.  
__"That's humans for you," said the immortal cheerfully. "Nothing slows them down for long. _But_ – if one persons asks himself – of herself" – he nodded politely to her – "if the matter to be fought over is worth his corpse being ripped to pieces and speared with our dung, and decided it isn't, that's all we need to justify ourselves. You'd be surprised how many people changed their minds, knowing that we'd come to live on their pain and play with their bodies. The barrier changed that. Humans forgot us. We've had to start all over. It will take a century before we'll make a difference again."  
__Daine shook her head as she stroked Leaf. "Ami a bad person, then, for wanting to fight to protect what I believe in?"  
__"I'm only a Stormwing, not a philosopher. For that, you must talk to Salamín – if you don't mind the headache he'll give you."  
__She smiled. "Have people tried making offerings and sacrifices to you, to keep Stormwings from coming down on them?"  
__"Very good. You know human nature almost as well as we do." The Stormwings who carried Daine had been listening. They cackled their amusement, making the girl's hair stand on the back o her neck. "Of course humans have tried to buy us off." Rikash grinned, his sharp, silver teeth glinting. "We go after them first."  
__Hebakh called. "My master's voice," Rikash commented with a sigh. He winked. "Sweet dreams."_

"Hey Mary," Tristan's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Dream about me?"

What have I done? Rory asked herself, before shooting Tristan a glare.

She was having troubles distinguishing Dreams from reality.

"You know," Tristan said leaning down to whisper in her ear. "I dream about you all the time." He smirked.

Rory tensed. She knew in her heart that even if she wanted to that she could never have a relationship with Tristan. She knew that for him, kissing would never be enough. And she was sure as hell, that he wasn't a virgin.

"What a sad life you must lead." Rory stated. Looking to the front where the teacher had just walked in.

There's a difference, she thought closing her book. When you dream, you wake up. In reality, there is no such happy ending.

* * *

**A/N:** Those of you interested, on how I reacted to seeing my 'Tristan' well, all I can tell you is that I paled noticeable, as he was in Boxers, and a rumbled T-shirt. But I – like Rory got back to how things used to be. I was lucky in knowing the person better than Rory knew Tristan, and in his niceness I was able to forget his connection with my dream. (That doesn't change how I thought it would make a very, let's say different, plot for a FF)

**BTW:** The Family in the apartments building was meant to be the elder Gilmore's… Emily and Richard… And the young boy Chris was intended as the son they never had. It sorta worked out that way, as I just named the boy Chris, and the woman in my dream looked surprisingly like Emily Gilmore. Funny how things work… Maybe I was in withdrawal… I mean… German Gilmore Girls is not nearly as good as English Gilmore Girls… and I did only see the episode where Kirk asked Lorelai out… It was still funny though – even if I didn't understand…

**Please Review**

**(It lets me know I'm not going crazy)**


End file.
